


The problem with heats

by bluebells



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Akande is a possessive mfer, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biological instincts are ass, Hurt/Comfort, Lúcio just wants hugs, M/M, Omegaverse, Pining, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: Lúcio is brave, handsome, almost universally beloved and outgoing; of course he knows how to ask for help if he wants it during his heat.Right?





	The problem with heats

Lúcio is brave, handsome, almost universally beloved and outgoing; of course he knows how to ask for help if he wants it during his heat.

Right?

He’s definitely not crippled by self doubt in his most vulnerable time. He would not endanger his own health by staying silent.

He does not push a hand against the physical ache in his chest because his symptoms build so long unattended that desire peaks into withdrawal.

He is definitely not training his body to survive without a partner. He is not accidentally conditioning himself to fear his heats for the uncompromising stress it will endure over the course of long, aching days without relief.

Of course not.

When the first symptoms start to manifest and Lúcio wakes, limbs heavy, mind clouding with a warm fever, he checks the calendar and his heart sinks.

His heat isn’t supposed to start for another three days. It’s coming earlier and earlier, and every time it lasts longer.

Doctor Zeigler flashes through his mind, but Lúcio pushes her warnings aside and drags himself from bed, swaying and unsteady as he goes in search for his medication. He washes the pills down with a tall glass of water and spies his phone recharging on the beside table when he returns to the warm tangle of his bedsheets.

If Lúcio is lucky, the meds will kick in and he won’t even notice his body is going through anything over the next week. But Doctor Zeigler has been adjusting his prescription going on a year now, without luck, and Lúcio doesn’t hold out hope today will bear his luck.

He clears his calendar, sending out general apologies and notice that he’ll be out of touch for the better part of a week.

 _A cold_ , he lies. It came on fast - probably caught it during his latest visit to the kids in the neighborhood - but he’ll be fine. He’s got everything he needs at home. He’ll see everyone after it passes.

This is the message he broadcasts, throat tightening even as he hits send, a flurry of colorful and smiling emojis bookending the point.

_I’m okay - better than okay._

_I don’t need help._

_And I’m going to be okay at the end of this._

Maybe one day Lúcio will stare down the barrel of his heat without his heart quickening, palms sweating with the same anxiety betraying the fear he pushes so far down he sometimes forgets he’s afraid at all.

Groaning with the ache already gathering low in his back, Lúcio tucks himself down into the thick duvet of his nest and shudders out a weary sigh.

There’s food and drink in the fridge and cupboards, supplies he should relocate so he won’t have to stagger far in the next few days.

He just needs to rest a little more. His head is so heavy and his joints hurt. He’ll get them later.

He passes out as soon as his head meets the pillow.

///

He wakes to the mattress depressing beneath weight, a heavy and familiar presence tucking in behind him. Warmth and _comfort_ already seep into his bones, a thick arm drawing him back against a larger, solid frame – he whimpers, tilting his head to bare his neck: weak, grateful. And guilty.

His eyelids are leaden with the stupor of his heat exhaustion, gummy with sobs that hitched his chest in sleep.

He doesn’t need his vision when every other sense recognises the one nuzzling into his hair. A thoughtful sound rumbles low and gentle behind him. Fingers tug his dreadlocks aside and he stiffens at the curious sniff of his neck.

Scent glands feel like they should be hot, maybe red and swollen. It’s a generally awful feeling, aching and fevered.

“Why didn’t you call me?” The words murmur against his skin, sharp with concern.

Lúcio curls his limbs tight into himself, chest hot with shame, feeling small and feeble. He trembles and hopes it can be attributed to general heat illness. He hopes neither guilt nor anxiety have a scent.

Akande has always been too smart for that. “You reek of fear… and grief,” he says. “You are not well.”

Lúcio freezes as he’s gathered closer and firm warmth moulds against the aching lines of his back.

“You should have just asked,” his mate whispers, kisses his neck, his temple, then his cheek when he whimpers with a fresh shiver, hunching even further on himself. The cool back of one hand presses to his neck.

_Don’t you dare ask. You don’t even know what you need. What would you tell him?_

_How can he help someone who won’t even help themselves?_

_How much patience will he have when he realises you can’t be fixed? We made this mistake together. Now you’re stuck needing someone who has to cross oceans to find you._

The others would kill him if they knew. They will, when they find out.

Lúcio turns his face into his pillow when the alpha nuzzles his neck, squirming away from kisses over the soft blush of scent glands.

Akande stiffens as though realising an uncomfortable possibility. “Do you… do you actually want this? Should I leave?”

The body against him stills. Slowly, Lúcio releases his death grip on the bed sheets, pushes a hand down his chest. His fingers weave through the alpha’s around his waist. Akande sighs, sounding like relief, as the omega draws their linked hands up, clutching them against his chest like a ward.

Lúcio doesn’t use his words. The alpha would probably feel better if he did, but hopefully the intention is enough.

Akande presses his face to the back of his omega’s neck, thumb stroking the hand in his.

Okay.

"I’ll stay as long as you want,” he says, and tucks his knees up behind the other’s. Not seduction, but security and comfort.

A grateful tremor travels Lúcio’s body.

This will take a while.

///

The days pass in a fugue as he sleeps to heal. He wakes only to eat and drink what he can stomach, all with the balm of his alpha against his back.

A deep, even rhythm beats beneath Lúcio's ear. He murmurs, rousing from the thick, heavy shroud of  sleep and finds himself draped back against Akande's chest.

The room is dark and still. He nuzzles into the warm curve of his alpha's neck. Light snores shift into wakefulness with a slow, deep inhale.

His knees part under the slide of hands down his inner thighs. A hum warms, soft in his chest at the palm that closes around his waking erection, cupping him through his briefs. He likes the simple intimacy of being held. He strokes from Akande's elbow to his wrist. He's missed this.

Akande’s face presses to the glands in his neck. They feel less swollen now.

“You smell more like yourself,” Akande sounds relieved, though Lúcio wonders how he's left any impression when their time together is so little.

He lets himself be pushed up to sit, his back braced by Akande's chest. He accepts water and food: dry, neutrally-flavored portions small enough for him to take from the alpha’s fingers. He is slow with sleep, but Akande is patient, fingertips lingering on his lips, brushing crumbs and catching drops of water.

His mouth returns to Lúcio's temple as though he can't help himself. It feels like a reassurance but Lúcio doesn't know if Akande is still calming his omega or himself. He's under no illusion how sick he was when Akande found him, so compromised he doubts his body was even putting out the usual markers of heat.

It's quieter now, muted warmth like fever almost burnt out in his bones.

Below, that other hand between his legs has gently begun to squeeze.

His breath catches and his hips jump. His cock begins to fill.

Behind him, Akande purrs, low and pleased. Lúcio feels the tickle of his nose behind his ear, warm stir of breath on his neck, “I'm going to take care of you.”

He doesn't ask for permission and Lúcio's eyes roll back, sliding shut in bliss as the grip on him tightens, covetously. He throbs and a small sound of want escapes his throat.

Fingers turn his chin and he groans into the kiss Akande drinks from him, parting his lips. Slow and heavy, he trembles under the hot strokes of his tongue, back arching, it sparks right down to his core.

“There you are,” Akande rumbles against his mouth, palming him firmly, Lúcio’s thighs pushing wider. “You feel better already don't you?”

“Yeah,” Lúcio is weak, his body thrumming hot and _oh_ it's a relief after the shivering cold.

Akande kisses him gentle and quick, earning a soft pitiful whine. “More?”

Lúcio leans up, his hips pushing into heat. He groans into Akande's mouth, long and helpless as he's caught, held, and kneaded through his briefs.

“This is mine,” the alpha murmurs, and Lúcio bleats high in his need when Akande's other hand slides low over his briefs, circling slow and possessive where he's begun to leak. “And this….”

“ _Uunh--_ ” A finger thrusts in against the barrier of cotton. Lúcio's head falls back on Akande's shoulder, chest arched, breathing loud. His ears burn at the sound of himself squelching even through the material. He shivers, “Please….”

“From now on, you call me when you need this,” Akande growls, lips to his temple, and Lúcio's head swims with the arousal that spikes from his mate.

The hand around his cock squeezes and Lúcio stiffens with a sharp cry at the shallow thrust of two fingers against his hole through the cloth. In such a short time, he's grown so wet. The material clings with his slick, his body gladly accepting the intrusion of its other.

For a moment, he fears Akande will torment him for spite. He is not a man used to being denied, and he has made a pasttime of pushing Lúcio past his limits. When Lúcio deigned to see him.

Before Lúcio, scent drunk and high on instinct, had sunk his teeth into Akande's neck, claiming the alpha for himself.

He only has himself to blame.

Wet cotton is tugged aside and Lúcio keens, squirming with relief at the two fingers that burn into him, sliding wet and deep to the knuckle. They encounter no resistance, muscles relaxed with arousal.

“Oh, fuck,” Lúcio cries as they thrust and curl against his walls, noisy squelches pushing more slick from his hole where Akande works him open with patience.

In and out, Lúcio clings to the arm around his waist, a long continuous groan low in his chest. Akande draws his knees up between Lúcio's thighs as he lies back, manipulating them wider for his pleasure.

“I missed you,” Akande breathes, making his heart skip a beat--then thud, crying out when the fingers within him speed up, finding his prostate and glancing it relentlessly, wet slaps loud and obscene.

Akande's hand flies from his waist, and Lúcio's cry chokes at the long fingers that close around his throat. His hold is not firm enough to threaten his air, but Lúcio arches at the knowledge his alpha could. And doesn't. It fills him with an inexplicable feeling of _safety,_ calm surging through the lust in his blood and he feels like he's tumbling backwards underwater when Akande tilts his head with the hand under his jaw.

Breathy whisper against his temple, “Did you miss me?”

_Please. Please just hold me._

“Yea--ah, ahh!” Trembling, he tries to pull his knees up, bare himself completely, but his legs aren't listening to him anymore. He fists the sheets at his side, close to a sob. “Missed you so much.”

“Of course you did.” He can hear the shit-eating grin in Akande's voice and something twists hot and sharp in his chest.

Asshole.

He yelps as the world tips and he finds himself on his back. Akande's presence hovers over him. A traitorous whine of distress surges in his throat when those fingers slip from his body.

“Uh-uh,” Wet fingers press to his mouth, hushing his complaint and he flushes with shame, pressing his thighs together.

He trembles, immediately silent. Heat burns behind his eyes. He thought his body had enough of crying after the last week.

Akande's sigh is loud in the dark. “This again.”

Lúcio blinks, blinded against the sudden dim of the bedside lamp. When his vision adjusts, Akande is crowded uncomfortably close, lying along his body.

“No….” Fingers on his chin turn him back when he squirms and tries to hide his face. Akande nods, encouraging, “Come, tell me.”

Being the sole focus of that stupid, handsome gaze again is thrilling… and nerve-wracking.

“Why did you come back?” Lúcio vies for anger but his voice cracks, sad and weary in his own ears.

Akande frowns at him, confused. A new scar arcs on his cheek since Lúcio saw him close to a year ago.

“I heard you were sick.”

“How?”

“I look out for what's mine.”

That hot feeling sharpens in his chest again, contracting even further with pain. He glares, biting the inside of his lower lip until he's sure his voice will be steady.

“I don't hold people to mistakes in the heat of the moment,” he says.

Akande shrugs, glancing to his hair and adjusting one of those dreadlocks on the pillow. “I claimed you back.”

So… he understood. But also, clearly didn't.

“I've been learning… to get through this without you.” Lúcio's throat tightens and he pushes away the hand on his chin.

Akande squints at him, confusion deepening. “Why?”

“You never came back!”

It's Akande's turn to blink, but the look that twists on his face is not contrition. “What did you expect? A holovid romance? You own a phone, don't you? A computer? Did I give you too much credit to think you can reach out when you need me? Instead, I find you making yourself sick!”

How is Lúcio supposed to call an arms dealer for a booty call without five types of law enforcement turning up at his door? And is it too much for Akande to realise Lúcio isn't… proud of his choice? And maybe he doesn't demand the full holovid experience, but… it would be nice to feel like more than a cock sleeve.

“I've made it through three without you!” Lúcio scowls, pushing back against that huge, broad chest. He moves to sit up. “I don't need you.”

Hands catch his wrists. “Yes you do.”

Lúcio scowls because the omega in him is pining for its other half, wants him to resign and fold himself into the other man. It's only a chemical match, an insinuation of DNA. His body might only recognise Akande as his right partner, but with better drugs….

“No, I don't.”

Akande's gaze softens, heat smouldering. Squeezing Lúcio's wrists, he leans down, voice close and quiet. “Yes you do.”

“N-no, I--” Lúcio trembles, nose brushing Akande's when the alpha rests their foreheads together. A thumb strokes his chin, his lower lip. His stomach flips, stiffness melting from his shoulders.

“Yes,” Akande purrs, long fingers sliding beneath the curve of his nape, and his mouth closes over Lúcio's weak, fluttering whimper. “You do.”

///

“I want to see you,” Akande had protested when Lúcio tried to turn off the bedside lamp.

It's a novelty, an alpha who actually _prefers_ the missionary position.

His knees grasped wide in those large hands, the head of that thick cock pushes inside and he groans high and loud, eyes falling shut. His elbows give out and his back hits the mattress.

God, it's been so long, feels so good, so thick so heavy _so full so-- complete--_

There are arms beneath him, pushing up to anchor on his shoulder blades. Akande lays over him, superior bulk pinning him flat, and Lúcio blinks dazedly, finding himself almost nose to nose.

Akande's gaze is hooded, a lazy smile. “You could have had this every time.”

“No, I couldn--”

The alpha rocks his hips, a heavy, body length roll of muscle, and Lúcio shrieks, the sound punched out of him, head thrown back, trembling hard. He claws at the meat of Akande's shoulders, eyes stinging as the alpha's full fucking length grinds into him, a slow, wet glide.

“Haa-- aahn--”

It shouldn't be this hard to breathe.

Akande groans against the shell of his ear, damp and hot. “Every time.”

He starts up a rhythm, rocking in, crowded so close, he leaves no reprieve, pushing breathless, gasping cries from his omega with every drive of his hips. Lúcio's body vibrates on every stroke, joy and relief so keen his eyes water, toes curling, finally, _finally yesyes-- why did he ever go without this?_

A mouth closes low beneath Lúcio's jaw, kissing and suckling the sensitive skin as he moans, overwhelmed.

“Hah--hnn--” Lúcio clutches tight, nails digging low on Akande's back and sure as fuck hoping he leaves a mark. “Fu--aahn--” Head spinning, he bites his lip, chest roiling with a storm of emotions, surrounded, _protected_ , and Akande is watching him from so close, expression rapt.

It's never felt like this before.

He expects Akande to speed up. Hands heavy on his thighs. Railing into him with abandon. He expects a quick finish.

Instead, Akande sustains that steady, ceaseless rhythm, flicking his hips and sinking deep when Lúcio almost catches his breath, knocking it from him all over again.

“Maybe I'll take you back with me,” Akande is murmuring, warm on Lúcio's lips. “Then... you could never hide when you need this.” Teeth nip at his lower lip, sucking it in for a kiss to soothe the sting. Lúcio whines, high and sharp. “If you won't look after yourself… _nnnh_ I'll do it for you.”

Lúcio is not buying it.

“Look af--” He bucks, body bowed, eyelids so heavy. Breathing through it, his thighs shake. “ _Hhhh--_ y--you mean… keep me tied up… and fucking _bred._ ”

Akande snarls, betraying his desire. The hands under Lúcio's back dig in almost painfully. His hips jutter, sharp and hard, driving a shout from his omega. “I wouldn't tie you up.”

Gasping, Lúcio lets his head fall back, trusting-- _knowing_ \-- Akande will follow him down. “But y-you'd try to breed me.”

A chuckle of amusement tickles his jaw.

“I'd teach your body who it belongs to,” Akande kisses him, surprisingly gentle for the rough hand that tugs in his hair, arching his neck back. “Every night. Spread you open...  have you like _this,_ ” and Lúcio can't hold in his moan at that prospect, head tossing when Akande finally starts moving faster. His kiss is consuming, his hold pure greed. “We could breed an army.”

And it's that moment of insanity all over again, scent drunk and focused only on the white molten pleasure so close to peaking between his thighs: Lúcio tugs the alpha in to share his air and begs, “Show me.”

Approval rumbles in the chest against him, then he's being arched back, his knees are pushed higher against his sides and his eyes shut, rolling back as Akande proceeds to fuck him blind.

The headboard thuds against the wall with every fast and powerful shove of Akande's hips, the bold shape of his knot already pressing hard. Panting in breathless whimpers, Lúcio's hands are caught and pinned beneath the pillow under his head.

Laid over him, Akande drowns his senses, growling in his ear, pure glorious strength, quickening more, but he's so _big_ and Lúcio was already close--

He comes, thrashing with a high, strained sob. Akande slows, grinning, and sinks his knot inside.

Lúcio's mind goes blank. His body is frozen taut, an inflamed livewire. Heaving in air, ecstasy rips through him and he trembles, bleached of thought as his senses sharpen on the thick musk of their scents intermingling, the roar of blood in his ears, the hot _throb_ of Akande inside where the painful-blissed out stretch of his knot has locked them together. Keening a high and breathy whine, his walls ripple, trying to clench down around the huge intrusion. Distress and euphoria war in him, heart racing. Akande is so big, he can't breathe, he can't--

One of his hands is released and a hot palm strokes between his pecs to his throat. “Ìfẹ́-ọkàn mi,” Akande soothes, and Lúcio sobs, holding tight as he's kissed and rocked and cradled beneath that huge frame. Akande nuzzles his cheek, brushing tears away with patient kisses. "Stay with me." Through a slitted gaze, Lúcio finds his smile more warm than smug, dark eyes intent on his face. "Slow, shh… breathe.”

Akande inhales deeply and Lúcio breathes with him. In and out. Air comes easier.

Above and against him, his alpha sighs breathily. A thumb brushes his mouth. “Beautiful.…”

Lúcio mewls, the alpha's hips insinuating tight, small circles against him, and fresh tears leak from oversensitivity.

“So good for me.”

If anyone asked him, Lúcio can not argue that Akande is a good person. But he is good to _him._

Mostly.

There's a whimper in his throat, knees wide around Akande's shoulders as the alpha hunkers down with a growl, head bowed and, inside, he comes, pulsing. Lúcio trembles at the rumbling hiss that escapes the man above him, bucking as the sound goes right to his core. Akande's release paints him hot, and he bites his lip feeling it foam at his rim where the alpha nudges against him in little shoves of his hips.

Lúcio arches gently with a moan, riding it out. “Feels good.”

Slumping, Akande catches himself on his elbows before he can crush the smaller man. With a huff, he nuzzles in for another kiss, humming with pleasure, Lúcio's fingers light on his scalp. “That _is_ the idea.”

Lúcio feels that hot, sharp feeling in his chest again, but dulled by a new warmth and the comfort of being sheltered in Akande's frame.

Brushing their noses together, his alpha welcomes his kiss. “Thank you.”

“So?” Akande murmurs, resting against his forehead. “Will you come home with me?”

And though Lúcio bites his lip, he can’t help but smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Ìfẹ́-ọkàn mi (desire of my heart)


End file.
